


110,000 Years

by Sadincae



Series: Hadreon [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Agender Character, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons Campaign, Dungeons & Dragons Character Backstory, Original Character(s), Other, Sidhe, character relives their every life and death, dungeons and dragons homebrew - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23101297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadincae/pseuds/Sadincae
Summary: Albion is a Sidhe, and Sidhe are always reborn after they die; in addition, once reborn, they're never supposed remember the lives they led before. Albion, however, has always been a curious one and when asked by a goddess what they wanted most, they asked to remember every life they had lived.
Relationships: Albion/Brïs
Series: Hadreon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660408
Kudos: 2





	110,000 Years

**Author's Note:**

> This is an excerpt of sorts I expanded upon from my Saturday homebrew campaign which takes place in a world called Hadreon.  
> It's important to know that Sidhe in this word are spirits from Tír na nÓg, and aren't native to the world they're currently in. They also come in two varieties: Winter who are subdued and don't really feel emotions, and Summer who embody emotions to the extreme. Drakon are dragonborn, Ikaians are halflings, and Immortals are humans.

" _What is it that you desire?_ "

The voice in Albion's mind was quiet, calming like a gentle stream. Despite this, the Sidhe's shoulders tensed, gaze intently upon the goddess who stood only a few feet away, occupied with another who was receiving a blessing. Hlal was her name, they had discovered from a passerby. She didn't _look_ particularly special; she appeared to be a Drakon with hands of an Immortal, but that was the only obviously noteworthy thing about her. The entire city seemed to be ablaze with activity due to her presence, and those who approached her supposedly had their wish granted.They hardly believed it. How could one hold so much power? Even still, they were curious to know for certain one way or the other, which is why they were here, standing in line, her gentle voice in their head.

What _did_ they desire? Well, they desired many things: to always further their knowledge, to understand emotions like the other races in Hadreon, to gain a true body for themselves unlike the faux mannequin one that they were forced to use now. These were all things they could gain by themselves without someone assisting. Obtaining a body was the only one that was more unsure but it was still, in theory, possible.

There was one thing no one could give them, however. One thing that they would never be able to do on their own.

" _I desire my memories, all of them. From every life I've lived up until this point._ "

There was a pause, and then again, the voice returned. " _Are you certain this is what you wish for?_ " she asked.

" _Yes_." They stared intensely. " _I'm certain._ "

" _Very well._ "

As they approached, she gave the Winter Sidhe a small smile. Softly her hands were laid upon their head, eyes closed. Despite the crowd around them, everything seemed to quiet.

The peace they felt was swiftly pulled out from under them. All at once, Albion's head was swimming with images, fractures suddenly pieced together of every life all at once. Overwhelming, pounding. Painfully, almost.

110,000 years in an instant.

They were a flower shop keeper with gorgeous crystalline flowers. There was something they felt there, but they had no word for it. This was their purpose. Flashes of faces, souls, of people they had once known well pass by them. They still knew these Sidhe well. Dark. All gone at once.

They were an assassin. Another Winter Sidhe, Alexander, was their partner as they traveled across Tír na nÓg. They took out enemies of the Court without mercy, no second thoughts. The Court was always right and just. Why would anyone go against the Court? They only had their best interests in mind, and they were fools to not see how benevolent they truly were. This was their only chance at salvation. They needed to die. The Court knows what is best for all Sidhe.

They were assassinated. Alexander was the last being they saw, world growing dimmer with their form. " _For the Court._ " The last words they heard, faded, quiet. Darkness. Light.

They lived on the border between the Winterlands and the Summerlands, but they weren't alone. Cathlainn was like a father to them, with Scathic and Ferdiad as their siblings. They were close, and it was almost peaceful. A feeling again. What was it? They wanted to know what it was but could never find out.

There was Brïs, who was closest to them. Different. They shared their true names with one another; they never shared their name with anyone else but him, even when others had trusted Albion with theirs. They nearly always seemed to find each other eventually, across many different lives. They shared a flower shop together at times. Others, they traveled. They again had no word for what they felt.

They were a scientist. They were a researcher. They asked Brïs to join them to the lab they had been tasked to work within, and he agreed. Nuada led them, and Albion helped in creating creatures for the New World. Any imperfections were swiftly destroyed. Only perfection would be enough for the Court. They deserved no less. They were always running experiments of some form. They would stop at nothing to create sentient life, battle ready, inhabitants for a New World. There was an accident, and Albion escaped. Brïs was never seen after. It was dark. Light.

The Court stood before them. They asked a question. The Court stood before them. Again. Again. Again. The Court stood before them. They had no questions.

The Court was always their beginning. The Court was where lives had ended. They always begun with the Court. End, beginning. End, beginning. End, dark. Light. Beginning.

The Court had need for them. Albion was always so useful. Curiosity was useful. They noticed things, found things. The Court wanted them to bring them these things. This was their purpose in life. This was their existence.

Why had it begun again?

A question. Again. Forgotten.

They tortured. They created. Merciful. Cruel. Uncaring. A feeling without name, over and over and over again. Music played around them, lively, sad, tales and events forgotten. Stories told and retold. Names seemed to change sometimes. Flowers were growing around them, crystalline and not. Souls faded before their blades, their staff, their bare hands. Dark, cold.

Why did it go dark so many times?

They tried to speak.

The Court stood before them.

They saw their current life; they were patrolling the Tradeways to keep them safe. The Will O’ Wisps that had begun emerging from Sheelin Lake, making their way slowly towards the Tradeways. It was when they were eliminating them that they discovered an old, abandoned lab. It’s distance from the city meant likely no one had been there in a very long time. They found notes regarding the research of Sidhe souls.

A new task: find lost things, forgotten places.

They set off into the Winterlands alone. They found very few labs; only two more in about a hundred years of traveling, and the information found inside, while interesting, didn’t give enough for what Albion felt the Court would be satisfied with. This was for the glory of the Court. Failure was inexcusable. Eventually, they found one last lab where inside were strange mannequins, part crystal and part wooden. As Albion approached, their form seemed to draw closer to them. They fully embraced it and manifesting fully into one of the mannequins feeling it felt as though it became a part of them. It almost felt easier in a strange way. They then found a small archway, just barely taller than how tall Albion stood. In the middle of the archway was a single point, a point that was so small you couldn’t hardly see it, possibly only visible at all because of the immense power emanating from in. Almost unconsciously they went towards it, hand reaching; they touched it.

Instantly, they zipped, the room around seemed to pop, and disappear, and instead they were traveling through the stars, faster than could even comprehend. Strange bubbles surrounded them. They too disappeared, and the next moment, another pop, and suddenly they found they were underneath a large, open, blue sky, no longer able to see the stars above, or the lab. Instead they saw two large stars that were hot against their form, and very strange to feel compared to the coolness of their home.

They looked behind them, and the point of magic had turned from a tiny speck into a large portal that glowed and shifted with purples and blues, filling up a much larger archway than the one in the lab. They were somewhere new, different. They heard a voice, an Ikaian man. A friend. Suddenly, killed. Panic. Albion forced his soul to remain, shaping it. Alive. They barely escaped. They hid, a hundred years. Captured. Another escape. They followed a strange group. Attacks. Victories. A lab, unknown. Familiar. A task, and return. An enemy and friend, killed. What is this feeling again? They return, and all wander without a goal.

Albion suddenly opened their eyes. They were back to the present.

Thoughts, unknown feelings, all seemed to overwhelm them as they struggled to stand and walk away. They forgot their companions, they thought of nothing else but getting back to the tavern.

They weren't sure anymore.


End file.
